


Prank War Bystander

by idmakeitbehave



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Prank Wars, You know exactly what I'm talking about, just fluff that's it, kind of?, like THE prank war, of the most absurd variety, we like to curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26474035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idmakeitbehave/pseuds/idmakeitbehave
Summary: “HithisisDoctorSpencerReid! I actually CAN come to the phone right now with a very special message that YOUR MOTHER is-”Ever wonder exactly who was on the other end when Spencer lost his shit? (Turns out, it was you.)
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 288





	Prank War Bystander

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a post on tumblr by @screamholland :)

You loved your job. You loved your job. _You loved your job._

This mantra ran through your head on repeat as you reached yet another standardized voicemail message. This had to be at least your seventh time calling and you were about ready to call it quits. Your phone was ringing once, twice, then straight to voicemail. This jackass was declining your calls. You slammed the phone onto the table, your head dropping into your hands.

“Cynthia,” you sighed across the room to your boss. “I’m not getting through.”

“Keep trying,” came her succinct response as she turned on her heels and disappeared into her office.

There was no point in arguing. You had chosen this career, it shouldn’t have surprised you anymore. Working as a crime reporter for a small local newspaper located just outside of Quantico meant you were constantly following every single horrible kidnapping, murder, and other nasty scandal that came your way, especially when a branch of the FBI was involved. The newspaper focused mainly on local crimes, but as soon as the FBI came into play all bets were off. You had written stories about events that had taken place all over- you name it, you had probably covered it. Your favorite thus far had been Alaska. The place, not the actual murders.

It had been your dream job- still was, most days- but you never quite got over how skeevy it felt to constantly be nagging people who were just trying to do their jobs. Jobs that were admittedly much more difficult than yours.

Right now, however, your job felt impossible.

This case was big, huge even. It was the ten year anniversary of the infamous North Valley High shooting in Idaho and it appeared that there was a copycat right there in the middle of it. Everyone was speculating that the culprit was Brandon, the younger brother of the shooter, but you didn’t buy it. No way that he could live through something like that and then go and repeat his brother’s horrific actions.

You were not getting anywhere with local police- although at least you had been able to get through to them in the first place. They didn’t tell you much more than you already knew. When one of the televisions in the newsroom had flashed the words _Behavioral Analysis Unit_ across the screen you figured that maybe you had something. Those were the big guns. If you could get a quote or two from them, you were set.

This had not turned out to be the case. Instead, you found yourself dialing the same number over and over again. _Doctor Spencer Reid_ , the man on the television had said his name was. Well, at this point Doctor Spencer Reid could go _fuck himself_.

You chastised yourself immediately for the thought. The man was probably out there kicking down doors or whatever badass shit FBI agents do. You watched too many crime shows to really know what was reality and what was fabricated. All you knew were the facts, the cold-hard truths that you were able to report.

Goddamn it. You let your head fall down to your desk. You would give yourself five seconds of self-pity before dusting yourself off and trying again. Cynthia wouldn’t allow for more than that. You resigned yourself to an afternoon of pressing the redial button. So much for real reporting.

_One, two, three, four, five._

Voicemail. And again. And again. Why did a so-called FBI agent have such a generic voicemail? It was the preset recording, an automated voice reading off the numbers that you had just called. The numbers that you had already committed to memory.

 _Fuck Doctor Reid._ The thought flashed through your mind again, and this time you made no attempt to quell it.

You sighed, hitting the redial button once more. It rang once, twice, wait- three times? You were so shocked by the continuing ringing that you didn’t realize it had stopped until you heard a voice that was distinctly not the man who had given his phone number on the television. “ _HithisisDoctorSpencerReid! I actually CAN come to the phone right now with a very special message that YOUR MOTHER is-_ ”

And that was it. The line went dead. He had hung up on you. He had actually yelled whatever the hell he had just yelled and _hung up_ on you.

There was no way this guy was really a fucking FBI agent.

You stared at your phone, mouth agape. And then you just started laughing. Laughing so hard you couldn’t stop, tears springing to your eyes. What the actual hell had just happened?

Cynthia stepped out of her office, staring at you as though you had lost your mind. “What’s going on?”

You were wheezing so hard that you couldn’t speak, waving your hands in the air in a futile attempt to catch your breath. “I- I, um. It’s a dead end, Cynth. Dead lead,” you choked out.

She studied you for a moment over her horn rimmed glasses before turning around with a tut. “Find something else then,” she called over her shoulder.

The rest of the day dragged on, each new lead coming up fairly empty. Tomorrow was another day. Maybe then you could find something that would actually be helpful.

You left the office, hoisting the strap of your bag onto your shoulder as you walked down the street. What a strange, strange day. As frustrating as it had been, you were positively certain that you had never been more entertained at work.

Your phone rang, jutting you out of your thoughts. You sighed, picking it up without looking at the caller ID. If it was Cynthia asking you to come back to the office you might actually scream. Hopefully _after_ you had hung up.

“Yes?” This wasn’t how you normally answered your phone, but at this point you were so over it.

 _“Hello?”_ The voice on the other end was decidedly not Cynthia. It was quiet, tentative almost.

“Yes?” you repeated. “Who is this?”

“ _This is, um, this is Doctor Spencer Reid_ ,” the voice sighed. “ _We kind of spoke earlier._ ”

You had got to be kidding. “What the hell.”

There was a pause as he clearly waited for you to either say more or hang up, but you simply stood in the middle of the sidewalk with your eyes wide.

“ _I’m just- I’m calling to apologize. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that- that was a completely unprofessional way to answer the phone. My coworker gave out my number and I was just getting a lot of calls all day, and it was- wait you don’t care, I’m sorry-”_

His rambling was cute. You hated to admit it, but it was true. You let out a soft laugh. “It’s okay, Doctor Reid. We’ve all been there. Well, not _there_ exactly, but you get it. Honestly, it was definitely the most entertaining phone call I’ve been on at work.”

_“Please, call me Spencer.”_

“Okay, Spencer. I’m Y/N. With Stafford Local.” You felt obligated to attach your newspaper to your introduction, like you needed him to know that you weren’t just some crazed fan calling him over and over.

_“I know it’s late, but I feel terrible for what I said. Can I call you tomorrow and I can give you whatever I can for your story?”_

Holy shit. This man, whoever he was, whatever the hell had come out of his mouth earlier, may just be your saving grace. “Oh my god,” you exclaimed a little more enthusiastically than you had intended. “That would be absolutely amazing. You just saved my entire life.”

Spencer laughed on the other end, a soft, adorable sound. “ _That’s kind of my job._ ”

Something came over you and you found yourself asking, “Maybe when you get back to Quantico we could grab coffee or something? I would love to pick your profiler brain- for work, of course.”

It sounded like he had choked on his drink and you bit back a giggle. “ _Yeah- yeah, I’d like that. We can do that._ ”

A smile spread across your face at his words. Just when you thought today couldn’t get any stranger, it somehow took this delightful turn. “Excellent. Well, I have your number, we can set something up when you’re back or whatever. And maybe you could finish telling me exactly what my mother is.”


End file.
